A memory floats by, lost in a stream of consciousness.
Erratic and detached
She reaches out to catch it, to contain it
But it slips between her fingers
Elusive, intangible
She puts the kettle on
Fragments of memories, disconnected images
Without the glue of reason
To piece them together
A frustrating puzzle
Always incomplete
She makes a cup of tea
Faces come
But never remain
A visitor who is always in a hurry
Sorry, can’t stop, got to go
Fleeting, temporary
Not even staying for a cup of tea
Reminder notes, hastily scrawled
Scattered throughout the room
An open diary on the table
Every day circled, highlighted, underlined
She sips her cup of tea
Thieves enter when she is out
And rearrange her things
She scrawls another note, and hides the biscuits
Paranoia blurs reality
She puts down her empty cup
Her world is shrinking, drawing her in
Embracing her in a comfortable cocoon
Mealtimes mark the hours
Providing points of reference
A degree of control
She puts the kettle on.
